Page 38 of Sweet Torture (Torture Games #1)

THIRTY

CHAOS

T he recording was damaged due to Vlad’s brilliant idea of holding a meeting in a fucking steam room. We had nothing except our word and two unexpected friends eager to assist us in our plan of world domination. Oh, wait, that was the plan Naz had for me.

Two weeks pass by. I’ve prepared for the shipment of women coming in.

Two days after the bath incident, I came into my office to find a folder on my desk.

It outlined the weight and dimensions of the shipping containers in which the women would be transported.

Due to the size of the containers, I could only assume that they were shipping at least thirty women.

These kinds of people rarely cared about the comfort of their captives.

It sickens me to think that I have been caught up in something like this .

Fortunately, Mike has made good on my suggestion, and his office has been scrubbed clean of his presence.

This means I have to work twice as hard to keep things running at the actual business as well.

At night, the four of us, Naz, Claire, Bastian, and I, also try to devise a plan to ensnare Vlad in his own trap.

Bastian has moved into my penthouse under the guise of being my brother.

Everybody loves him and his charming manner.

But I catch glimmers of a darkness in him when no one is looking.

Nobody in the building questioned the move because some say we look so alike. I don’t see it.

Naz assures me I am still the handsome one, although he can bench press more than I by far. I have been trying to keep up, but with so many distractions, I have decided to save that fact for later consideration.

Claire has become crucial in our plan as she predominantly gathers evidence and researches every single aspect that could go wrong.

We suspect we are being watched, so Claire poses as Naz’s friend.

They even invite Rose from time to time to drink wine and gossip for hours, while I find something else to do.

Besides being surrounded by people the whole time, the only downside to this entire thing is that we haven’t had a chance to return to Naz’s playhouse.

And I feel restless.

What was once a thorn in my side has turned into a craving, and along with feeling antsy, I am discovering that I am becoming intolerable.

People at work are complaining and asking where Mike went, which puts me in a bad mood. I think Jason is considering taking a position in the mailroom just to get away from me.

When I get home, Bastian raids my fridge and leaves no sweet treats for me. He even steals the strawberries I replenish constantly in the hope of eating them off Naz’s body – again.

Sure, we have sex, but it is all vanilla, and we have to stay quiet for the other people using my front door as a revolving door.

That was until today.

When I walk in, I am met by a strange silence that has been absent for days. A huge bouquet of red roses adorns the dining room table, and rose petals are strewn on the floor in a path that leads to my bedroom.

On my closed door is a sticky note.

Do you want to play a game with me?

My heart rate increases, and blood pulses to my now throbbing dick. It is happening. It is really happening.

I push open the door and find another note stuck to the wall.

Remember your safe word, and do you give consent?

I shout in the darkness, “Yes, the answer is always yes and rebel. ”

“Strip and kneel by the bed.”

The voice is sweetly commanding, and I love it. Tingles race to my groin as I tear my clothes off my body and drop them to the floor.

My knees have barely made contact with the hard wooden floor when I feel her presence behind me.

Her fingers weave through my hair before she pulls my head back and licks my earlobe. Shivers run through my body, and I clench and release my fists.

“What game are we playing, Queen?”

She bites my earlobe now, and I groan loudly. I don’t give a fuck who can hear me. I need this.

“Stand.” I scramble to rise from my knees, and when my eyes meet hers, my breath is stolen.

She is dressed in nothing but a thong with a paintbrush tucked into the front and two pasties on her nipples that say, ‘fuck the artist.’

Her lips are blood red with my favorite lipstick, and her hair is twisted into a relaxed bun.

In her hand, she has a black leather mini flogger.

Yes, I have done my research.

“There has been a rumor going around that you have been a naughty boy. Do you deny it?”

I shake my head and lift my hand to caress her soft skin. My hand is slapped away.

“I thought we could play a game of Pictionary. I will draw a picture on your back with my paintbrush, and if you guess correctly, I will kiss you somewhere on your body.” She has taken the paintbrush out and flicks the tip of my dick with the end of the brush.

My body comes alive with the possibilities of where her lips will be. Red lipstick marks to claim what is hers.

Until my eyes land on the mini flogger.

“And if I guess wrong?”

She lifts the flogger and licks the handle seductively. “Then you get one hit by my little friend here. Do you want to play?”

One hit is nothing. She even got the small flogger. I can handle that. I nod and wait for the next instruction.

Circling me like a hunter, she slides the brush's soft bristles along the line of my Adonis belt. I shudder visibly while my cock twitches like crazy. I am standing in the middle of my bedroom floor, completely at the mercy of the artistic goddess orbiting me and befuddling my senses.

Her floral perfume is intoxicating and reminds me of that night in the gallery. When she couldn’t wait another second to have me.

Now, she is toying with my lust to have me endure ‘delayed gratification’ as she likes to call it.

My research has shown it is called edging, and I fucking love it. The anticipation of her making a move is as electrifying as when she moves.

She slides her hands down my sides, one still grasping the brush between two fingers, and goosebumps cover my skin. I have waited for this for so long. Yes, it has only been a few days, but my body needs a hit of the potion she is peddling, and I need it bad.

The brush tickles my back as a circle is formed on my sensitive skin. Two dots and a downward curved line end the torture.

My voice sounds more hesitant than I feel, “Is it a sad face?”

Naz strolls from behind me, and her face radiates with pride. " Well done, last rule. No touching me. Your hands are immobile until I say so.” Then she lays one on me, right on the lips. I have to fight every urge to pull her body closer and prolong the kiss.

She licks my bottom lip as she pulls away, and my tongue bolts out of my mouth to savor her sweetness.

Without a word, she returns to my back and draws something else on my back.

This time, it is a simple flower. “I hope all of the pictures are going to be so easy. It’s a flower.”

Once again, I lose myself in the glowing look on her face. She takes a second to make sure I am watching her when she twists to the side and takes my hard nipple into her mouth.

The moan that escapes me is loud and filled with lust. Her tongue swirls around my sensitive tip, and when she nibbles slightly, my body turns to molten lava.

I throw my head back and feel my muscles contract at the thought of how her sinful tongue is setting my nipple on fire.

“Fuck, that feels good.”

She doesn’t say a word as she licks once more and then blows on it. My hands have a mind of their own as they lift to join the party. Just like that, she steps back and tsk-tsks.

“You know the rules, Chaos. Do you want to keep playing?”

I nod vehemently, wiping the feverous sweat drops from my brow.

“Then keep your hands by your side. Next picture.”

She takes her time to return to my back, takes the brush and draws a series of lines, some intercepting and others trailing off. Either way, I have no idea what it is supposed to be.

She senses my hesitation and encourages me. “Don’t be scared to get something wrong; I would never hurt you. Remember, I get off on your pleasure.” She pinches my ass, and I jump forward.

“I have no idea what you just drew, but I will take my punishment like a man.”

The giddiness in her voice was clear: "Great, walk to the wall, put your hands up, and lean forward. Legs spread.”

“No need; I can take it.” My legs refuse to walk, but I am never going to admit that to her.

“Wall, now.” I jump at the tone of her voice. Sometimes, it is as if another person is speaking from her mouth, and I am seriously scared of that woman.

Once I lean with my hands on the wall, she comes closer to say in my ear, “I was hoping you would defy me, then you could take your punishment like the little brat you are.”

I close my eyes and wait for the crippling blow, but all I feel is the gentle sweep of the many suede strips against my skin. A breath of relief falls over my lips, and I arrogantly state, “That wasn’t so bad. I might get a few wrongs on purpose.”

Suddenly the cracking of the strips against the skin of my ass echoes into the space around me.

The tingle is so divine that a feral growl escapes my lips.

“I was hoping you would say that. Next picture.”

Again, the image is full of convoluted lines that make no sense.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” I ask.

Her head appears next to mine, and the sly smile on her lips gives away the truth: "Of course not. I am an artist. It isn’t my fault you don’t know what a dog looks like.”

This time, the blow is a little harder but not unbearable. My back stings slightly, and the bristles of the brush activate every single nerve in my skin to protest.

The picture is again indescribable, and as I curl my fingers against the wall and lean on my whitening knuckles, I know I am in trouble.

Another picture, another hit.

Again and again, until I have lost count of how many so-called masterpieces have been painted on my back.

The slight burn developing is setting the rest of my body on fire. My cock is dripping precum on the floor, and with every hit, it becomes harder.

I don’t even answer anymore. When she asks, I shake my head and brace for impact.

Although it is never harder than I can handle, the slight increase in blood flow to my back and ass is exhilarating.

“You look so beautiful marked by me, Chaos.” The lines fall in no particular order, and the mayhem screams possession. “I love how responsive you are to my touch.”

She draws her nail across my reddened skin, and I squirm at the sensation she brings forth.

“I think that is enough playing for today. How about we get the reward for being such a good boy today?

When everything turns silent, I turn around to see where she has gone.

Still admiring her work, she backs away from me and walks toward the bed. I can see the glistening of her wetness when she lies down on her back, opens her thighs, and beckons me closer. Kneeling between her legs, I thrust two fingers into her, which incites the cutest little moan from her.

“You are so wet, my Queen. Has our little game made you as lustful as I am?” I ask before I slip my wet fingers into my mouth to feast on.

She gets up to wrap her arms around my neck and pulls me closer, positioning my hard cock at her slippery entrance. “I have been craving to see you on your knees again. My little brat with the hardest cock.”

I thrust into her deeply in a single motion, spreading her pussy lips to accommodate my hard erection. My hands round her luscious ass and hold her steady while I lower myself into her repeatedly.

She uses her arms to keep me close to her body with her nails dragging new lines on my already sensitive back, while her thighs clamp down around my hips.

Excitement escapes her in shallow breaths interspersed with longing moans when I hit the right spot inside her.

I tilt her hips forward and find the confirmation I need when she starts chanting my name with each thrust.

Knowing how much she loves my dick is encouraging me to give it to her even harder.

However, I have come to appreciate the sweet moments captured between our glances as I gently thrust into her deliciousness.

Alternating my rhythm affords me the opportunity to see the adoration in her eyes when she looks at me. I have seen the same adoration in stolen moments when she assumes I am not paying attention to what she is doing.

In these seconds, her vulnerability is exposed enough for me to recognize her hunger for the safety that a loved one can bring. And although I have never alluded to this, I want to be that loved one.

Her nails dig into the back of my neck, and she breathes hard through the pleasure. “Fuck, I love your dick.”

Although her pussy feels like heaven, her words cause me to pause. “You love…”

Feeling her pull away, I remedy the situation by picking up the pace. The insecurity disappears from her eyes as she whimpers against my throat, and her pussy starts contracting with euphoria. Her moans become louder as my cock throbs.

She suddenly tightens around me, releasing a loud moan that fills the space with the intensity of her release. Her body limp in my arms, I continue rocking into her while staring at the face that I have become obsessed with.

My chest heaves in excitement as I prepare to come deeply into her. Flashes of her pregnant with my child motivate me to pump even faster. Her eyes are closed as she hangs on for dear life, still high from her orgasm.

“Queen, you will come again. ”

The area between her thighs turns slick, and my fingers jab into her soft skin to keep from slipping out.

I can see her body gear up to come again, and I pray it will happen before my cock gives in to the indescribable feeling of her wrapped around me.

She grabs her tits and pulls at her nipples. “So close, Chaos, don’t stop.”

I don’t stop. I never will. I force myself to watch her indulge in my body, and her pleasure becomes more important than breathing.

When her pussy contracts and ripples of euphoria run through her body, I allow myself to let go and pump her full of my cum.

Pulling out, I see the mess we have made of the bedding and ourselves, and I grin in sadistic satisfaction.

“I love making a mess of you, did you know that?”

She leans on her elbows to see the destruction.

“As only you can, Chaos. Only you can.”

We roll off the bed and take a long, soothing shower.